*And all your weight
It falls on me
It brings me down
And all your weight
It falls on me
It falls on me*
*Collective Soul - Heavy*
The day after graduation. What a day, Angel thought upon awakening. Faint traces of sunlight gleamed on the horizon, through her window. She smiled, and dressed quickly in the predawn chill. As was her custom, she walked onto her second-story balcony, and climbed up on the rooftop to greet the sun, as she did nearly every morning. This sunrise was spectacular, painting the sky with red and gold. Simply breathtaking.
When the sun had fully risen, she went back into the house and headed downstairs to let the dog out, and to begin cooking breafast. Pancakes today, warm and fluffy. She made her own pancakes, a guaranteed way to make Bryan happy in the morning.
She was surprised, then, to feel Cassandra's mind-tone register wakefulness at the same time as Bryan. Angel glanced out the front window, spotting Cassandra's red Intrepid next to Bryan's Ram and her own Grand Prix. So, Bryan had had a little romp with his girlfriend while Angel was away. Pleasant thought. At least she'd remembered to dim the link this time. She hadn't felt a thing. Not like the first time. A disgusted thought flitted through her mind as she mixed up another batch of pancake mix.
The pair finally shuffled into the kitchen, Bryan wearing an old, ratty white t-shirt and some sweatpants. Cassandra was wrapped in Bryan's bathrobe. "Morning, sleepyheads!" Angel called cheerfully, determined to be as obscenely energetic as possible. Bryan glared at her, and Cassandra yawned.
"You have no right to have this much energy," Cassandra muttered, seating herself at the table. "You were out even later than we were."
"Yes, but I wasn't engaged in such physical exertion as you were, either," Angel countered jokingly. Cassandra fell silent, a faint pink tinge on her cheeks. Bryan glared again.
The house was one of the few places where Angel would wear short sleeves, and Cassandra started as those heavily scarred arms served her pancakes. "I see you're recovering nicely, Angel," Cassandra said to make conversation.
"Thank you, Dr. Harrelson. I've made an appointment with that plastic surgeon next week, to fix my tattoo." Her tone was lighthearted, but she fixed the older woman with a stern glare. Cassandra had sworn to tell Bryan about her marriage sometime soon, but apparently she hadn't done that yeat. The blond cringed under Angel's intense gaze.
"Hey, what's all this about?" Bryan asked, picking up on the glare but not knowing the reason.
"Unfinished business," Angel stated quickly. "More pancakes?"
Bryan wanted to ask, but Angel's tone gave no room for argument. Inwardly he was shaking his head. Women, he thought. Can't live with them, can't live without them.
There was a tense silence between Angel and Cassandra. Bryan was normally quiet anyway, so there was little spoken at breakfast that morning.
Cassandra left soon after breakfast, to run to her house and get some clothes before going to the hospital. Now that Angel was out of high school, she was working full-time at Jerry's. Bryan was planning to do what he normally did: sit on his ass and watch TV. He was starting to train again, thankfully, but he still had lapses of motivation.
Angel was reading the paper that morning when she spotted the front-page story. "Oh my God," she murmured.
Bryan glanced over. "What is it?"
"This!" Angel shoved the paper in his face, with a large color photo of the wreckage of a tank. Authorities were mystified as to the origin of the tank, as well as the soldiers underneath the tank's head, which was found about thirty yards away from its body. No positive identification had been made on any of the bodies, but the tank bore the logo of Mishima Enterprises. The name rang a bell in Angel's memory, but she couldn't quite grasp it and it slipped away.
"Shit," Bryan muttered as he moved the paper far enough away that his eyes could focus on it. The police had no idea how the tank's head had been removed, or why it was even there in the first place.
"Bryan?" came Angel's quiet voice. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
"Ah..." he wasn't quite sure how to answer.
She read him perfectly. "You did, didn't you? What the hell happened? How did that tank get... torn apart, like that?"
"Don't really remember," he said quickly, trying to find a way to change the subject.
"Bryan..." She stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping.
He summoned all of the shame and disgrace he could to the forefront of his mind. "I got conked out, okay? Somebody jumped me. I was about to get back to my truck, and BOOM! something blew up."
She didn't believe him. "Whatever."
He was incredulous that she let him off that easily. However, "I expect an explanation at a later date, Bryan," she said sharply. "A TRUE one." That said, she spun on her heel and walked out the door, on her way to work.
He sighed. Putting up with Angel's nosiness was almost more trouble than it was worth. She had every right to know, it was just that... he wasn't sure how to tell her. He wasn't ready to accept any disasters that might befall him if he DID say anthing.
For example, how the hell was he supposed to tell her that he wasn't even remotely related to her, or that he was dead? What he did know about her past was incredibly sketchy. He knew that she was trained from birth to be the most skilled, fearsome, all-around kickass person on the planet. That Japanese guy from the other night had confirmed his hunch that Angel had once been a Tekkenshu. Then she had been sent here under Kenji's care to... to what? Learning to blend in would be the best guess. On that note, how is one supposed to blend in if one can kill seventeen armed people at once and live through it? It wasn't exactly a common trait.
Looking at her--her eyes, her hair, her build, her abilites--one would know instatntly that she wasn't a normal person. But how non-normal was she? Bryan knew that she had been born of a surrogate mother... who? Another question. And who was the sperm donor for the father?
The circumstances surrounding her birth were a complete mystery to everyone but the ones who arranged the whole thing. Perhaps Angel DID know. She just couldn't remember... Her memories were the key to everything. When and if she ever did recover them, all hell would break loose.
And why didn't he tell her what he knew? He was nervous about the consequences. He didn't want her to fall apart. He didn't really want to say it, but he was kind of attached to this kid. She reminded him of himself, in his better and worse moments. Maybe they were somehow related, how the hell should he know?
The day passed quickly. He trained, ate lunch, watched some TV, trained some more. He briefly considered trying to use the computer, but quickly gave it up. He'd never seen a more heavily safeguarded system in his life. Hell, all he wanted to do was surf the internet, maybe find some porn...
His rampant thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He glanced at the wall clock on his way to the door. Shit, it was 7:00 already? Glancing out the window, he spotted Cassandra's Intrepid parked in the driveway. She was off early, he realized, and opened the door.
She looked like hell. He immediately saw the black eye, the disheveled hair, the slightly ripped dress. "Cassandra, what the hell? Did you get attacked or something?"
"You could say that," she said primly, managing to retain her good humor, and allowed herself to be led to the living room. Once she was properly seated, Bryan went into the kitchen for an ice pack. She took it gratefully, and sat nursing her eye for the longest time.
"Cassandra, what-"
She shushed him. "Bryan, I have something to tell you, and I don't want you to say a word until I'm done, understand?" He nodded hesitantly. She took a deep breath. "Bryan, I'm-"
Headlights flashed in the window. Two pairs, in fact. There was a bit of shouting outside. It sounded like Angel and some guy. When Angel unlocked the door and stepped inside, the man brushed past her rudely and barrelled into the living room. "There you are, you slut!" he bellowed. He was roaring drunk, even Bryan could smell it from where he was.
"Who the hell are you, asshole?" Bryan growled through clenched teeth.
The man straightened. "I'm Jonathan Harrelson, and I'm here to claim my whore of a wife!"
Bryan's eyes widened to frightening proportions, and Angel saw his fists clench. His head whipped around to stare at Cassandra, who had all but curled into the fetal position, sobbing quietly. "Wife?" he finally managed to grunt.
"Yes, my wife! How many times have YOU fucked her, you bastard?" The man, Johnathan, waved his fists.
Bryan could only stare, shellshocked. He was about to explode, and that explosion could have dangerous results. Angel quickly stepped to Bryan's side, and grabbed his arm. "Bryan, calm down," she soothed, when he yanked his arm out of her grip and gave her a blood-chilling stare. Unnerved yet undaunted, she placed a restraining hand on his bicep. Her eyes traveled to the other seething man across the room. "I think you'd better leave, sir. It would be in your best interests."
"I'm not going anywhere without my wife!" he bellowed. It was at that moment that Angel shouted something in Japanese. Takeru sprang into action, and planted himself in front of Jonathan, teeth showing and hair standing on end. He growled, low and deep, and the man took a few steps backward.
There was an impasse, when Cassandra abruptly stood. "I'm coming," she mumbled, gathering up her things.
Bryan was about to take a step forward when Angel once again restrained him. "Let her go," she murmured.
Cassandra turned to face the silver-haired siblings. "Bryan," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Her husband stepped forward and grabbed her arm roughly, nearly earning himself a vasectomy at the hands (teeth?) of Takeru, when Angel called him down. The tiny family could hear the man shouting at his wife all the way out the door, down the porch steps, all the way to their cars.
A low growl issued from Bryan's throat, that quickly built into a roar of incredible anger, his eyes seeming to throw sparks. He turned, and thrust a fist into the wall, tearing a hole completely through it and busting into the shelves on the other side.
"Such strength," Angel murmured in awe to herself. Bryan turned to face his sister slowly, shoulders heaving, the knuckles on the one hand slowly oozing blood, his eyes burning through her mind and into her very soul. "Bryan," she said slowly and calmly, "we need to talk."
It falls on me
It brings me down
And all your weight
It falls on me
It falls on me*
*Collective Soul - Heavy*
The day after graduation. What a day, Angel thought upon awakening. Faint traces of sunlight gleamed on the horizon, through her window. She smiled, and dressed quickly in the predawn chill. As was her custom, she walked onto her second-story balcony, and climbed up on the rooftop to greet the sun, as she did nearly every morning. This sunrise was spectacular, painting the sky with red and gold. Simply breathtaking.
When the sun had fully risen, she went back into the house and headed downstairs to let the dog out, and to begin cooking breafast. Pancakes today, warm and fluffy. She made her own pancakes, a guaranteed way to make Bryan happy in the morning.
She was surprised, then, to feel Cassandra's mind-tone register wakefulness at the same time as Bryan. Angel glanced out the front window, spotting Cassandra's red Intrepid next to Bryan's Ram and her own Grand Prix. So, Bryan had had a little romp with his girlfriend while Angel was away. Pleasant thought. At least she'd remembered to dim the link this time. She hadn't felt a thing. Not like the first time. A disgusted thought flitted through her mind as she mixed up another batch of pancake mix.
The pair finally shuffled into the kitchen, Bryan wearing an old, ratty white t-shirt and some sweatpants. Cassandra was wrapped in Bryan's bathrobe. "Morning, sleepyheads!" Angel called cheerfully, determined to be as obscenely energetic as possible. Bryan glared at her, and Cassandra yawned.
"You have no right to have this much energy," Cassandra muttered, seating herself at the table. "You were out even later than we were."
"Yes, but I wasn't engaged in such physical exertion as you were, either," Angel countered jokingly. Cassandra fell silent, a faint pink tinge on her cheeks. Bryan glared again.
The house was one of the few places where Angel would wear short sleeves, and Cassandra started as those heavily scarred arms served her pancakes. "I see you're recovering nicely, Angel," Cassandra said to make conversation.
"Thank you, Dr. Harrelson. I've made an appointment with that plastic surgeon next week, to fix my tattoo." Her tone was lighthearted, but she fixed the older woman with a stern glare. Cassandra had sworn to tell Bryan about her marriage sometime soon, but apparently she hadn't done that yeat. The blond cringed under Angel's intense gaze.
"Hey, what's all this about?" Bryan asked, picking up on the glare but not knowing the reason.
"Unfinished business," Angel stated quickly. "More pancakes?"
Bryan wanted to ask, but Angel's tone gave no room for argument. Inwardly he was shaking his head. Women, he thought. Can't live with them, can't live without them.
There was a tense silence between Angel and Cassandra. Bryan was normally quiet anyway, so there was little spoken at breakfast that morning.
Cassandra left soon after breakfast, to run to her house and get some clothes before going to the hospital. Now that Angel was out of high school, she was working full-time at Jerry's. Bryan was planning to do what he normally did: sit on his ass and watch TV. He was starting to train again, thankfully, but he still had lapses of motivation.
Angel was reading the paper that morning when she spotted the front-page story. "Oh my God," she murmured.
Bryan glanced over. "What is it?"
"This!" Angel shoved the paper in his face, with a large color photo of the wreckage of a tank. Authorities were mystified as to the origin of the tank, as well as the soldiers underneath the tank's head, which was found about thirty yards away from its body. No positive identification had been made on any of the bodies, but the tank bore the logo of Mishima Enterprises. The name rang a bell in Angel's memory, but she couldn't quite grasp it and it slipped away.
"Shit," Bryan muttered as he moved the paper far enough away that his eyes could focus on it. The police had no idea how the tank's head had been removed, or why it was even there in the first place.
"Bryan?" came Angel's quiet voice. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
"Ah..." he wasn't quite sure how to answer.
She read him perfectly. "You did, didn't you? What the hell happened? How did that tank get... torn apart, like that?"
"Don't really remember," he said quickly, trying to find a way to change the subject.
"Bryan..." She stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping.
He summoned all of the shame and disgrace he could to the forefront of his mind. "I got conked out, okay? Somebody jumped me. I was about to get back to my truck, and BOOM! something blew up."
She didn't believe him. "Whatever."
He was incredulous that she let him off that easily. However, "I expect an explanation at a later date, Bryan," she said sharply. "A TRUE one." That said, she spun on her heel and walked out the door, on her way to work.
He sighed. Putting up with Angel's nosiness was almost more trouble than it was worth. She had every right to know, it was just that... he wasn't sure how to tell her. He wasn't ready to accept any disasters that might befall him if he DID say anthing.
For example, how the hell was he supposed to tell her that he wasn't even remotely related to her, or that he was dead? What he did know about her past was incredibly sketchy. He knew that she was trained from birth to be the most skilled, fearsome, all-around kickass person on the planet. That Japanese guy from the other night had confirmed his hunch that Angel had once been a Tekkenshu. Then she had been sent here under Kenji's care to... to what? Learning to blend in would be the best guess. On that note, how is one supposed to blend in if one can kill seventeen armed people at once and live through it? It wasn't exactly a common trait.
Looking at her--her eyes, her hair, her build, her abilites--one would know instatntly that she wasn't a normal person. But how non-normal was she? Bryan knew that she had been born of a surrogate mother... who? Another question. And who was the sperm donor for the father?
The circumstances surrounding her birth were a complete mystery to everyone but the ones who arranged the whole thing. Perhaps Angel DID know. She just couldn't remember... Her memories were the key to everything. When and if she ever did recover them, all hell would break loose.
And why didn't he tell her what he knew? He was nervous about the consequences. He didn't want her to fall apart. He didn't really want to say it, but he was kind of attached to this kid. She reminded him of himself, in his better and worse moments. Maybe they were somehow related, how the hell should he know?
The day passed quickly. He trained, ate lunch, watched some TV, trained some more. He briefly considered trying to use the computer, but quickly gave it up. He'd never seen a more heavily safeguarded system in his life. Hell, all he wanted to do was surf the internet, maybe find some porn...
His rampant thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He glanced at the wall clock on his way to the door. Shit, it was 7:00 already? Glancing out the window, he spotted Cassandra's Intrepid parked in the driveway. She was off early, he realized, and opened the door.
She looked like hell. He immediately saw the black eye, the disheveled hair, the slightly ripped dress. "Cassandra, what the hell? Did you get attacked or something?"
"You could say that," she said primly, managing to retain her good humor, and allowed herself to be led to the living room. Once she was properly seated, Bryan went into the kitchen for an ice pack. She took it gratefully, and sat nursing her eye for the longest time.
"Cassandra, what-"
She shushed him. "Bryan, I have something to tell you, and I don't want you to say a word until I'm done, understand?" He nodded hesitantly. She took a deep breath. "Bryan, I'm-"
Headlights flashed in the window. Two pairs, in fact. There was a bit of shouting outside. It sounded like Angel and some guy. When Angel unlocked the door and stepped inside, the man brushed past her rudely and barrelled into the living room. "There you are, you slut!" he bellowed. He was roaring drunk, even Bryan could smell it from where he was.
"Who the hell are you, asshole?" Bryan growled through clenched teeth.
The man straightened. "I'm Jonathan Harrelson, and I'm here to claim my whore of a wife!"
Bryan's eyes widened to frightening proportions, and Angel saw his fists clench. His head whipped around to stare at Cassandra, who had all but curled into the fetal position, sobbing quietly. "Wife?" he finally managed to grunt.
"Yes, my wife! How many times have YOU fucked her, you bastard?" The man, Johnathan, waved his fists.
Bryan could only stare, shellshocked. He was about to explode, and that explosion could have dangerous results. Angel quickly stepped to Bryan's side, and grabbed his arm. "Bryan, calm down," she soothed, when he yanked his arm out of her grip and gave her a blood-chilling stare. Unnerved yet undaunted, she placed a restraining hand on his bicep. Her eyes traveled to the other seething man across the room. "I think you'd better leave, sir. It would be in your best interests."
"I'm not going anywhere without my wife!" he bellowed. It was at that moment that Angel shouted something in Japanese. Takeru sprang into action, and planted himself in front of Jonathan, teeth showing and hair standing on end. He growled, low and deep, and the man took a few steps backward.
There was an impasse, when Cassandra abruptly stood. "I'm coming," she mumbled, gathering up her things.
Bryan was about to take a step forward when Angel once again restrained him. "Let her go," she murmured.
Cassandra turned to face the silver-haired siblings. "Bryan," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Her husband stepped forward and grabbed her arm roughly, nearly earning himself a vasectomy at the hands (teeth?) of Takeru, when Angel called him down. The tiny family could hear the man shouting at his wife all the way out the door, down the porch steps, all the way to their cars.
A low growl issued from Bryan's throat, that quickly built into a roar of incredible anger, his eyes seeming to throw sparks. He turned, and thrust a fist into the wall, tearing a hole completely through it and busting into the shelves on the other side.
"Such strength," Angel murmured in awe to herself. Bryan turned to face his sister slowly, shoulders heaving, the knuckles on the one hand slowly oozing blood, his eyes burning through her mind and into her very soul. "Bryan," she said slowly and calmly, "we need to talk."